


An Eye for an Iris

by Airyo



Series: Dreamcatcher [2]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Other, ffnet transplant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 04:13:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11820993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airyo/pseuds/Airyo
Summary: Kakashi's first thought as he held baby Ayame was: "It's a human raisin." His second was not fit for replication, as she took offense and promptly vomited all over him. Dreamcatcher side-story.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Writing due to my extreme regret for not including more Kakashi and Ayame in the main series.

“Kashi-kun,” his father said. “Let’s meet the daughter of an old student of mine.”

 

Kakashi scratched at his bare face in thought. He wondered if Sakumo was joking because Teuchi was a ramen-chef and his calluses pointed to ramen-related things like ladling broth and pulling dough. The idea of Old Man Ichiraku with a kunai was laughable.

 

But he still smiled politely and hoped his father wouldn’t linger in the warm glow of the ramen stand too long this time. It was a strange friendship, but Sakumo was the kind of person who could befriend an enemy nin and sit him down for tea if he wanted to.

 

Then Teuchi gave his trademark laugh - a warm sound from deep from his stomach - and shook his head in embarrassment. “Sakumo-san, that’s far too long ago. Are you still sore about it?”

 

As if it were true.

 

Kakashi studied the ramen-chef.

 

Even though everyone called him Old Man Ichiraku, even though he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. He had a kind, open face and curved eyes that looked like he was perpetually thinking of something happy. If comfort food had a face, it would look like Old Man Ichiraku’s. Teuchi was leaning over the stall on his forearms, his little white hat askew and apron stained with ramen ingredients. He was the picture of honesty.

 

Kakashi looked back to Sakumo.

 

His father was barely thirty, so the shock of white Hatake hair that threatened to escape his ponytail always perplexed everyone. Even more so when young Kakashi was standing next to him with the same trait. Dark intelligent eyes warm with affection regarded him. Sakumo smiled gently at him, and the boy unconsciously straightened proudly. After that disastrous mission two years back, everyone else looked down on the White Fang, but to Kakashi, Hatake Sakumo was still the kindest and strongest dad in the world.

 

And such a man wouldn’t lie to his son.

 

“Confused yet, Kashi-kun?” Sakumo ruffled his hair. Kakashi scowled at him but tolerated the gesture because his father was laughing. Even if Old Man Ichiraku had a nice laugh, Kakashi liked his father’s most - it was a soft, low sound that settled deep in Kakashi's bones, warm like cuddling under the covers on a wintry night. It was a rare sound nowadays.

 

”I am not confused,” Kakashi clarified. ”Intrigued.” He was already eight, and two years strong into his chuunin career. He was an adult in the eyes of the Hokage and the village. The older men forgot that sometimes. ”Teuchi-san is a ramen chef, while Father is a shinobi. Does Teuchi-san need to learn how to fight in order to protect his secret recipe? ”

 

It was a viable hypothesis because Ichiraku ramen was delicious. Yet the older men found it funny. Kakashi decided that he did not like this kind of laughter as much.

 

”Sorry, Kashi-kun,” Sakumo said. ”We are not laughing at you.” This was a load of bull, but Kakashi was feeling generous after Minato-sensei had praised him earlier today, so he pretended to believe him. ”We are laughing because Teuchi couldn't win a fight against a bowl of noodles if he wanted to.”

 

An utter lack of ability to fight was a foreign concept to the young genius. It was easy - a flick of hand seals, a toss of a kunai, and all his opponents fell on the ground like broken dolls. Child's play. So when confronted with the claim that someone could be so inept was...

 

”I don't understand the purpose of your hyperbole, father,” he admitted.

 

”That's because it's not a hyperbole, ” Teuchi admitted. ”I was dead last in my academy class - graduated late, actually - and for that, ended up on the same genin team as Uchiha Fugaku and Hyuuga Hiashi. I quit to become a ramen chef very soon after that.”

 

There were quite a few stories tucked in between the lines, underneath the underneath. Kakashi was mildly curious, but he was more interested in keeping the conversation going because his father was smiling over fond memories instead of trying to drown himself in the bad ones.

 

”Why would Hyuuga and Uchiha inspire you to cook? They have very few ties with the Akimichi...”

 

“If only it were that simple,” Teuchi bemoaned. “I was older, but those two were...a class of their own.”

 

”You were the only diplomatic one, and you went and left me to the mercy of those two hellions.” Sakumo accused. He turned to Kakashi to explain. ”Fugaku and Hiashi fought constantly. The only reason both are alive was because I begged for Aburame Shibi to replace the vacuum of sanity left by that guy.” The target of Sakumo's baleful glare shrugged unapologetically.

 

Kakashi had enough information to understand. The Aburame kikachu were capable of eating away chakra, rendering the victim(s) incapable of further combat. Sakumo had requested a referee, not another student.

 

Kakashi sympathized with Shibi, because he understood what it was like to be the youngest, yet the most mature. Rin wasn’t so bad, though he was mildly discomfited by the girl’s obvious admiration for him. But Obito was two years old than him, and Kakashi couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to graduate the Academy - likely with help from his esteemed clan.  

 

This Aburame Shibi must have been truly great because Kakashi found it painful enough to have just one idiot on his team. Maybe he should look into developing a chakra depletion technique...Kakashi quickly discarded that idea. That would only make Obito even later.

 

Teuchi gave a wistful sigh. ”I just couldn't keep up with those guys, but I so wanted to be a ninja chef for my comrades.”

 

”What would food have to do with supporting your comrades?” Kakashi could understand poisoning an enemy, but ramen noodles weren’t lethal unless one choked on them.

 

“It is what fuels your body, isn’t it?” Teuchi asked.

 

It was then that Kakashi understood why Sakumo kept in touch with the ramen-chef. Not only was Teuchi one of the few people who still regarded the fallen shinobi warmly, but he also followed the same ideals. Even though Teuchi no longer supported his comrades on the battlefield, he supported them by providing warm food for their empty bellies and a warm smile for their empty hearts.

 

”So are we going to meet little Ayame-chan?” Sakumo pressed. Teuchi waved his eagerness away as he turned to turn off his stove.

 

”Just let me close up the front.”

 

Teuchi's apartment was accessible through the back, a cozy place that also smelled of ramen. A pleasant looking old woman stepped out of the bedroom with a tiny pink bundle in her arms.

 

“Thank you for watching her, Ma,” Teuchi said as he accepted his daughter. “Please go get some rest.” She yawned, waved and left quickly, leaving the three men with the baby girl. There was a moment of hesitation before they shifted themselves around.

 

Kakashi ended up on the couch with his father as Sakumo held Ayame. Teuchi made them tea before rejoining them.

 

”Do you want to hold her?”

 

Kakashi tried to protest, but Teuchi was already transferring Ayame to him. Carefully, albeit reluctantly, the boy cradled the newborn so she wouldn’t roll off his lap. He look down at her wrinkled face. She peered up at him with dark sleepy eyes.

 

Kakashi’s first thought as he held baby Ayame was: “It’s a human raisin.”

 

His second was not fit for replication, as she took offense and promptly vomited all over him.

 

Kakashi could have dodged, but he was also intelligent enough to realize that tossing a newborn across the room like a hot kunai would be frowned upon. So he continued to hold her as he directed an expression of long suffering at his father.

 

 _This is the kind of nonsense I put up with_ , his downturned mouth seemed to say.

 

Kakashi’s mood improved after he’d showered and borrowed a clean shirt. Teuchi apologized profusely and gave him another bowl of ramen with extra fish cakes, homemade from Teuchi's personal kitchen. Homemade always tasted better, even more so when eaten with your precious people sitting next to you.

 

The ramen had a soporific effect, and Kakashi drifted off on the couch with plans to harness the powers of Teuchi’s ramen to subjugate enemy nin.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Kakashi woke with a start. His senses unfurled and within moments, he categorized his surroundings.

 

His bed was small and hard, and the threadbare blankets were probably older than he was. He could smell rich flavor of broth - in the blankets, in the large shirt he wore. He heard the soft sigh from the crib on the other side of the room.

 

So they were still at Teuchi’s. Sakumo must have carried him into the bedroom, as only his father and Minato-sensei could move him while he slept. Therefore, the infant in the crib was Ayame.

 

Kakashi efficiently made the bed with the neat, tucked edges all soldiers used and walked to the side of the crib. To his consternation, he was still too short to easily peer over the edge. He rolled his eyes (but made a mental note to drink more milk) and leaped up to perch on crib railing.

 

He tilted his head and scratched his head. How did something so little and cute manage to spew that disproportionate amount of formula on to his shirt? By volume, it felt like she was at least seventy-five percent milk.

 

Faint murmurs from the living room drew his attention and Kakashi quickly forgot the conundrum in baby-milk ratios. He jumped back to the ground and crept to the door, where he could hear the quiet conversation.

 

“How are you holding up?” Sakuma was asking gently. Teuchi gave a long sigh.

 

“I see her everywhere,” he said, voice hoarse. “Does it ever stop hurting, Sakumo-sensei?”

 

Kakashi realized why Sakumo had insisted on visiting Teuchi as soon as he had returned from a mission. It was why he’d bought two cards at the store - “Congratulations, It’s a Girl!” and “Sorry for Your Loss” - for the same person.

 

“No. But you will become better at remembering the happy times. Little Ayame-chan will ask, and it will be your job to keep her mother’s memory beautiful and bright.”

 

Kakashi held his breath and suppressed his chakra until it burned, a sharp bright point in his chest. Despite his father’s words, Sakumo rarely talked about Kakashi’s late mother. There were photographs, yes, and the mission reports of the failed mission, the vague infant memories of gentle hands with rough skin and a soft off-key voice. These were all pieces of who his mother was, but Kakashi could not claim that he remembered her. Not when she was gone before he was two, and he understood from a young age that asking about her would be the surest way to cause agony to well in his father’s eyes.

 

So Kakashi learned to stop asking.

 

But he never quite got the hang of stopping his curiosity.

 

There was no doubt that Sakumo was aware of his eavesdropper, but he continued to speak.

 

“I try to live by the ideals of my wife,” Sakumo said. “So my son Kakashi can grow to protect this precious village with the Will of Fire. She loved this village, loved what it stood for. She gave her life on that mission because she believed it was important. It helps me to remember to trust in her decision.” Kakashi’s vision was blurry, with a yearning was a hard lumped in his throat. “In the same way, Teuchi, you need to remember that your wife gave her life to protect something precious to both of you - your child.”   

 

Kakashi puffed up proudly because he understood the parallels Sakumo implied. The boy silently promised to himself again that he will grow up to be just like his father. His name will strike fear into the hearts of his enemies.

 

He revisited his mental list of potential epithets he would like to be called when he made it into the bingo books. Obviously, he couldn’t be called the Other, Better White Fang, but Kakashi knew he wanted a moniker that referred to canines. It made sense since he intended to sign the Ninken summoning contract when he developed better chakra stores. Maybe the Silver Fang, or the White Flash.

 

(He’d already scratched out the Wicked Wolf and the Growling Awesome Fang, because he made them up when he was six and they were far too childish now.)

 

Teuchi sounded more relaxed as he sighed again. “You’re right, Sakumo-sensei. I need to be strong for the next generation. Our children are our hope for future, after all.”

 

Sakumo hummed in agreement.

 

 _I’ll help,_ though Kakashi fiercely. _I’ll be strong so they won’t look down on Father anymore._

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets pretty dark in this chapter with Sakumo’s suicide. I would like to make it clear that this chapter reflects Kakashi’s thoughts driven by grief and anger, not my own. 
> 
> Please don’t read this chapter if you think it might be triggering. You’ll be able to pick up enough context clues for the next one.

* * *

 

“What about Ultra Lightning Flashing White Hot Burning Falcon Assassination Technique?”

 

Kakashi winced. “I think I like Rin's suggestion better, Minato-sensei.”

 

The Yellow Flash deflated but nodded in understanding. ”I guess ‘Chidori’ would be easier to yell before you assassinate someone.”

 

”Yes, that's why,” Kakashi agreed. Minato gave him a suspicious look as Rin stifled a chuckle.

 

“Look, I’ve developed a new technique too!” Obito called from behind them. He clasped his hands in the Tiger hand seal, index fingers extended. “Konohagakure Hidden Secret Taijutsu Technique: One Thousand Years of Pain!” Then he charged at Kakashi.

 

Kakashi nimbly leaped to the side and tripped Obito as he barreled past him. The Uchiha face-planted, valiantly holding his hand seal even as he slid several feet past them on the dirt road.

 

“That was going to be nothing more than a gigantic butt poke, wasn’t it?” Kakashi asked flatly. Obito stood up with a sneer, though it was greatly diminished by his dirt-covered goggles.

 

“You just have no style,” he said. “And you clearly already have something stuck up your a--”

 

“Guys...please…” Rin said with an awkward smile as she stepped between them. “We’re only a half hour from the village.”

 

“Rin is correct. We should present a good image to the guards and when we make our report to the Hokage. And Kakashi, didn’t you push this mission so we could return quicker since you were worried about leaving your father for too long?”  

 

The two boys glared at each other for a moment, before looking away with a huff. Somehow, Team 7 made it back to Konoha without further incident.

 

* * *

 

 _Rule 04. A shinobi must always put the mission first_.

 

* * *

 

 

Kakashi sensed something was wrong when he opened the door. The familiar cocktail of scents that made it smell like home was still present, but the air was stale and still.

 

“Dad?”

 

He found him on the living room floor. Sakumo looked like he was sleeping, curled up on his side with his back to his son. But he had always been able to sense Kakashi, and he would never just ignore him. Kakashi’s heart choked his throat. He managed to stagger the last few steps to Sakumo.

 

“Wake up, old man,” he muttered. “If you’re injured, you need to get to the hospital, not impersonate a log.”

 

The past year, Sakumo had slipped further and further into depression. But he always smiled with a tired look in his eyes and ruffled Kakashi’s hair. If he could smile, he still had the energy for jokes anymore...right?

 

“Not funny.” Kakashi crouched next to Sakumo, staring at his still back. His father seemed so small and frail without the familiar bulk of his jounin vest. Kakashi was afraid to shake him, to touch him, because then this nightmare would bleed into reality. “This isn’t funny - wake up NOW!” In fit of desperate rage, he pushed him.

 

Sakumo didn’t move. Rigor mortis had already set in.

 

He had already seen so many corpses with the brewing war on the horizon. But his father's undid him.

 

Kakashi barely made it to the bathroom. He collapsed by the toilet. Then Kakashi’s body purged itself, tears mixing with the bitter taste of bile. He lost everything. His lunch, his father, his sanity.

 

* * *

 

 

Sometime later, Kakashi shakily stood, rinsed his mouth out, and reported the incident. He sat in the hallway as ninja and medics and an endless blur of strange faces invaded the apartment that had been his home, his sanctuary, for all his life.

 

Distantly, Kakashi wondered where he would live now. This place was not a home anymore.

 

Then Minato-sensei squeezed through the crowd like sunlight on a rainy day. He reached down to rest a hand on Kakashi's head but the boy tensed. Kakashi’s breaths came in sharp, short bursts as he fought to not hyperventilate - that was what his father always did and for everything that Minato was, he was NOT his father.

 

Kakashi turned and determinedly looked at the ground, shaking. His teacher understood; Minato shifted so his hand landed on his shoulder.

 

”Come on, Kakashi-kun. Let's get out of here.”

 

_Rule 23. A shinobi must follow his commander’s orders._

 

Numbly, he obeyed.

 

* * *

 

The ANBU issue poison pills were meant for captured ninja who had no other way to protect the secrets of their village, not for depression.

 

Disgusting. Shameful.

 

It was the escape route of samurai, not ninja, who danced with blood and betrayal like old friends.

 

Kakashi had tried so hard to fight the whispers, the stares. He had believed. He had thought the rest of the village stupid. He had wanted to believe in teamwork and the bond of a genin cell. Once, he could see himself with such a bond with Rin and Obito.

 

But then the autopsy confirmed it.  

 

_Rule 56. A shinobi must see the hidden meaning within the hidden meanings._

 

Kakashi saw it now. He had been too naively to believe so blindly in his father. The truth lay beneath the facade all along. His hypocrite of a father couldn’t even follow the rules of his own making, nonetheless the sacred ones that governed all shinobi. Because even if Sakumo couldn’t abandon his beloved comrades, he certainly could abandon his son.

 

Kakashi will never forgive him for it.

 

The night he heard of the damning label of ‘suicide’, Kakashi locked himself in Minato’s bathroom. He stared at himself in the mirror, dark eyes tracing the long nose and the thin lips made for half-quirked smiles. The lingering baby fat did nothing to conceal it.

 

He was his father’s son, even if he did not want to be.

 

Minato said nothing when Kakashi emerged from the bathroom with lacerated knuckles. One hand covered the lower-half of his face.

 

“Sorry about your mirror. I’ll clean it up,” Kakashi muttered from between his bloody fingers. “But do you have a mask that I can borrow?”  

 

* * *

 

“You left this.”

 

Kakashi stared down at the blade that Obito extended towards him. His father’s chakra blade.

 

“I don’t want it anymore.” Kakashi returned to the scroll of shinobi rules he was re-committing to memory. “Take it for yourself for all I care.”

 

“What?! Don’t be like that!” Obito grabbed his hand and forced his fingers to curl around it. Kakashi shook him off and jumped away in disgust. “It’s your dad’s! How the hell can you not want it?!”

 

“Because it’s useless and outdated,” he said scathingly. Kakashi walked up the trunk of a nearby tree, his skin prickling with an energy that made him want to scream and hit something. He quashed that feeling. “Weapons need to be discarded when they’re not longer useful. I guess it was too much to hope that now that you’ve made Chuunin, you would understand a basic shinobi rule.”

 

“Say that again to my face!” Obito snarled up at him.

 

“Rule 41. A shinobi must prepare before it is too late to,” Kakashi quoted cooly. “You should commit that one to memory, as you’re always tardy.”

 

“That’s not what it means!”

 

Kakashi huffed. He continued up the tree until he was hanging upside down. “Rule 56. A shinobi must see the hidden meaning within the hidden meanings.”

 

“Stop quoting rules at me! That’s creepy and weird, Kakashi.”

 

Kakashi’s eyes narrowed, and the space around him seemed to coalesce into something cold and dense. “There are rules for everything. For example,” -- Obito let out a yell when Kakashi cut off the chakra in his feet, and let himself freefall to the ground. Before he hit the ground, the silver-haired boy twisted, tumbling so he rolled back to his feet in front of the Uchiha -- “Gravity. We must obey it because it is a rule of the world around us. The world would not be, if not for the gravity that guides every motion we make. In the same way, we have the rules of the shinobi. You are trash, if you can’t even follow the rules that define your role.”

 

Obito seemed to sense he shouldn’t push Kakashi. He scratched at his spikey black hair and made a face. “Well then. Rule 666. A shinobi should never make fun of his comrades!” He shouted the final part, and pointed at Kakashi dramatically.

 

The silver-haired boy snorted, but the hard thrum of tension in the air eased. ”Rule 534.  A shinobi must not be stupid.”

 

Obito flailed his arms in anger. ”Rule I hate you 2. A shinobi should not an asshole!”

 

Kakashi tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow. “Your fascination with my behind is worrying, Obito. You should work out your sexual frustration with your therapist, not me.”

 

It was easy to goad Obito into a fight, and forget himself between the fists and the fury.

 

* * *

 

His days blurred into a series of disjointed memories. Promises, bonds, fond memories - these could be broken, could betray him.  But rules and numbers only did the breaking, segmenting his world into tidy pieces and framed the senselessness into something comprehensible.

 

* * *

 

Sakumo’s name would never be carved onto the memorial, so Kakashi was surprised to receive an invitation to his father’s funeral. He flipped over the scroll, disgusted to see the Uchiha sigil on the end of the scroll.

 

Where had Fukgaku been when Sakumo was alive? It was easy to ask the forgiveness of a dead person. They couldn’t really contradict anything you said.

 

Kakashi almost declined, but Kushina had already seen it. Minato-sensei, he could have disobeyed, but Kushina was...Kushina, and she was the closest thing to a mother that he could remember, more so than the Inuzuka that were distantly related through his mother.

 

So on a gray, watery morning, Kushina and Minato herded the boy to the Uchiha district. It was a small gathering of Sakumo’s closest comrades. Kakashi found it pathetic that the men Sakumo saved on the mission that marked his fall were not present.

 

But his students, past and present, were there. Teuchi waved at him from across the room.  Hiashi stared down his nose at him, and then offered aid in the form of the vast Hyuuga resources. Then Fugaku and Shibi made the same noises at courtesy, trying to use him to ease their own guilty burdens. He knew exactly why they were here.

 

_Rule 31. A shinobi must not show his emotions._

 

 _Where were you all when my father needed you?_ Kakashi seethed. But he bowed politely and thanked them with empty words and empty smiles that matched their promises.

 

He glanced at Kushina helplessly, eager to leave, but the red-haired woman was chatting quietly with Mikoto and a Hyuuga woman with sweet expression. The Uchiha matriarch sensed his gaze and excused herself from the other women. She approached him with a soft greeting. From Mikoto’s arms, a small boy with lines on his face peered at Kakashi curiously. Even though he was around the same age as Ayame, his dark eyes held the sharp glint of intelligence fit for someone older. Kakashi held his gaze, genius studying genius.

 

Then, the solemn toddler reached out towards him. Mikoto was forced to lean forward to keep a hold on him. The child gently patted Kakashi’s hair with a fat baby hand. _You’ll be okay_ , he seemed to declare. Kakashi tolerated it. Satisfied that his message was received, Itachi lost interest and tucked himself back into Mikoto’s embrace.

 

“Sorry, Itachi-chan can’t speak yet,” she said fondly.

 

 _Not ‘can’t’,_ Kakashi thought snidely. _Has no need to_ . _If you can’t even see that, why do you even presume to know what I feel?_

 

Mikoto smiled and he got the sense she knew exactly what he was thinking.

 

“I didn’t know your father very well,” she said. “But Fugaku, Shibi, and Hiashi all tried very hard to defend his name. Both to the Council and the others in the village. They’re all awkward idiots, but they mean the best. They loved your father. I hope one day you will come to recognize that.”

 

Kakashi couldn’t bring himself to contradict her.

 

\--

 

”Ah, Kakashi-kun. It’s been a few months since I saw you.”

 

He turned. It was Teuchi, smiling sadly at him. The boy narrowed his eyes in disgust. Here comes the false condolences, the sideways remarks warning him from the same fate as his failure of a father. But his last good memory of that man had been with Teuchi, so instead of turning away rudely, he braced himself.

 

”Ayame-chan still asks for her Kashi-kun. Would you save a poor man’s sanity and visit?”

 

Kakashi couldn't think of a reason to turn down the invitation. So he mutely approached the ramen stall and followed Teuchi into his apartment.

 

“Kashi! Kashi!”

 

Teuchi picked her out of her crib and set her on her unsteady feet. “She’s just started learning how to walk. Watch her for me, okay?” Teuchi disappeared as quickly as if he’d teleported. Kakashi stared flatly at the empty space where Old Man Ichiraku had been. That sneaky...he’d just gotten roped into babysitting duty.

 

With a huff, Kakashi turned back towards Ayame as she toddled towards him.  She attached herself to his knees and grinned widely at him. He was surprised she recognized him even with his new mask. 

 

”Hi Ayame-chan,” he greeted quietly.

 

”Kashi!” was the gurgled answer. She was barely one, so the fact that she learned his name at all was remarkable. “Up!” She raised her pudgy arms towards him. “UP! Up!” She bounced, trying to mimic the action for jumping and nearly falling over in the process.

 

With an inward sigh, Kakashi picked her up. As soon as she was within arm’s reach of his face, she grabbed a fistful of his new mask and pulled at it angrily. Wily little child...this whole family, actually.

 

“Baa!” she scolded. “Baa Kashi!”

 

Ayame couldn’t quite figure out the direction she needed to pull to remove it, but she made up for it with sheer determination and enthusiasm. For leverage, she grabbed onto the forelock of hair that stuck out from under his forehead protector and gave it a painful yank.

 

“Stop that!” Kakashi said sharply. She released him, but Ayame’s bottom lip wobbled. Then she grabbed his face and planted a sloppy wet kiss on his skewed mask in apology.

 

“Sowwy. Sowwy Kashi. Aya sowwy. Baa Aya.”

 

It was impossible to be irritated when her enormous brown eyes glittered up at him like that.

 

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not mad.” She still looked at him like that. Clearly, she didn’t understand him and his mask made it hard for her to tell what he was feeling. Kakashi rolled his eyes and shifted Ayame to one arm so he had one free. He pulled down his mask - there weren’t any mirrors around - and smiled tightly. “See?”

 

It was apparently sufficient, as Ayame squealed some sort of happy gibberish and threw her arms around his neck. Kakashi hugged her, not sure why he was the one that felt like crying.  

 

 _Rule 25. A shinobi must never show his tears_.

 

When Ayame finally fell asleep, he put her back in her crib, recovered his face, and joined Teuchi outside. At the man’s insistence, Kakashi took a seat, but not where Sakumo always liked to sit. He accepted the steaming bowl of ramen the chef placed in front of him.

 

“On the house,” Teuchi said firmly when Kakashi took out his wallet. “You father helped me through a dark time. He reminded me of hope, of believing in the future. The least I can do is give Sakumo-sensei’s son a warm bowl of ramen.”

 

Kakashi replaced his wallet with a shrug, pretending not to hear the second part. He clapped his hands in thanks and picked up his chopsticks. He glanced at Teuchi expectantly.

 

“Oh! Sorry,” the man said. He closed his eyes, though it made little difference from his usual appearance. Then to be doubly sure, he turned his back to Kakashi and leaned his elbows on the counter.

 

He was truly a terrible ninja to expose his back like that. Kakashi almost smiled.

 

“Thank you.” The boy pulled down his mask and began to eat. He still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of quickly enough to avoid unwanted eyes, but he was learning.

 

Unfortunately, even if Teuchi’s eyes were closed, his mouth was not. “Did I ever tell you about when you were born? Sakumo-sensei was a mess in the week leading up to it. From what Shibi told me, he got the news when he was eating lunch. He was so shocked he mistook a shuriken for cookie.”

 

Kakashi coughed, a badly disguised laugh. He knew Teuchi was smiling in an infuriating way. “That is in the past,” Kakashi said firmly.

 

“Don’t mind me,” Teuchi said with a shrug. “I’m just an old man muttering to himself.” Kakashi took him up on his offer. It wasn’t as if he was actually wanted to hear stories about his disgraced father, but it was rude to leave food unfinished. So he stayed even as the chatty chef continued talking.

 

“You know, everyone laughed at me when I decided to become a ramen chef. They told me it was fitting that I end up doing that instead, because I was a disgrace as a ninja. Many of my friends turned away from me.” The soft scape of chopsticks stilled. Kakashi glanced at Teuchi - the ramen chef wasn’t pulling any punches. “Sakumo-sensei was the only person who didn’t regard me differently. He told me that the strength of a shinobi comes from his comrades and his precious people. Because the heart of the man wearing the shinobi's uniform, or not wearing it, is what lives on after his body fails. The people and the village he protected are his legacies. Not his reputation.”

 

“He failed the mission,” Kakashi said after a long moment. It was the first time he was acknowledging the circumstances leading to his father’s death. “That was putting the village in jeopardy.”

 

“Maybe,” Teuchi said. “But the way I see it, he trusted his other comrades to protect the village, so that he could risk it to save the ones on the mission with him.”

 

“Then his trust was misplaced,” Kakashi said harshly. He expected Teuchi to contradict him, but the ramen chef spent his days dealing with people without the luxury of a weapon at hand.

 

”Did you know that the rent for this stall costs almost twice as much as some of the ones further in the marketplace?” Kakashi went to eating. He refused to be the soundboard for a point that Teuchi was determined to make. “Do me a favor, Kakashi-kun. Turn around and take a look.” Grudgingly, the boy did so. Teuchi chuckled when he heard Kakashi’s soft intake of breath. “Nice view, isn’t it? That's why I chose this spot. Best view of the Academy and the Hokage tower. My customers can’t always see it, but I can. Every day.”

 

Kakashi turned back to his bowl. Teuchi had made his point more than clear - Konoha was still here. The comrades that Sakumo believed in did protect this village. Will continue to protect the future generations.

 

And most importantly, Sakumo had trusted Kakashi to protect Konoha, to take care of himself, when he couldn’t.

 

Kakashi swallowed. Then he pointed to his right, even though the chef couldn’t see the gesture. “Teuchi-san, you have customers.”

 

“Ah. Thank you.” Teuchi smiled over his shoulder before turning to greet them. Kakashi wiped his cheeks with the back of his gloved hand and kept eating. Old Man Ichiraku was slipping.

 

Today, his ramen tasted of tears.

 

* * *

 

 

Many days (and just as many ramen bowls) later, Kakashi almost won his spar against Minato. He had the element of surprise, when in the perfect moment, he slashed at his teacher with a blade that glowed bright white.

 

But it wasn’t enough, not yet. Minato smiled as he flickered behind the boy, kunai at his jugular to denote yet another victory.

 

“Better, Kakashi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Apparently, the official name is One Thousand Years of Death, not Pain. This hurts me deeply. 
> 
> \- I made the mistake of re-reading/watching Kakashi’s incredibly tragic past. Excuse me while I cut some onions and rub the pieces onto my eyeballs - feels about the same. 
> 
> \- This will become less Kakashi-centric as Ayame gets older. 
> 
> \- And less sad. (Curse you Kishimoto.) 
> 
> \- Minato’s inability to name stuff makes him my spirit animal.


	3. Chapter 3

Like many children in pre-school, Ayame’s favorite part of the day was lunch. 

 

Unlike other children, however, her fondness for the golden hour had little to do with its benchmark as the end of classes. Instead, it had everything to do with her big-girl job as Daddy’s Assistant. Recently, he even got her a little stool so she could peer over the counter at the customers. She loved to watch the tops of their heads as they bent over to slurp up his delicious cooking. There were many, but she knew them all.

 

Teuchi always laughed at her ability to mark each individual by their hair instead of their faces. But that was a natural progression of things -  it was all she ever saw of them with their heads bent over bowls of ramen. And most importantly of all, it was the distinguishing characteristic for one of her favorite people in the world. 

 

“Kashi!” she called. She ignored Teuchi’s warning to be careful, kicking over her stool in her haste to run around the counter. 

 

“Hi Ayame-chan,” Kakashi said. She slowed to a stop, rather than tackling him with hug per usual. He was tired. Ayame could see the droop of his silver hair and the roundedness of his shoulders. Nonetheless, when she hesitated, he opened his arms to her. Ayame didn't hold back and leaped up with all her might.

 

"Oof, you're getting heavy," Kakashi teased even though he'd nullified the impact with a smooth shift of balance. 

 

“Meanie,” she said, though the sentiment was ruined when she threw her arms around his neck. 

 

"It’s still so creepy..." Obito muttered behind them. "You actually being nice..."

 

“Unlike someone,” Kakashi said with a smug look over his shoulder, “I have a more mature emotional range.”

 

Obito flared his nostrils and stuck out his tongue at Kakashi, but didn’t try to kick him per usual. Ayame giggled at his silly expression. She liked Obito, even though he seemed to always bicker with Kakashi. He was funny and he made Kakashi not-sad. Even if the not-sad state was because Kakashi was annoyed.

 

“Hey Ayame-chan. Kakashi-kun’s told us a lot about you. I’m Rin.” Ayame’s cheer darkened at the sight of Rin’s ugly face and ugly brown hair as she leaned really close to Kakashi. Ayame mentally likened her hair color to poop with only a hint of remorse, even though it was the playground equivalent of a finishing blow. 

 

But she had been raised in a ninja village, and she hardened her heart with a resolution that would have made any assassin tear up with pride. 

 

“No,” Ayame said flatly. She buried her face into Kakashi’s shoulder. Teuchi squawked her name disapprovingly in the background, but she didn’t care. 

 

"I just don't get it...kids usually like me..." Rin muttered. She sounded so lost the Ayame’s resolve wavered. She peeked out, only to see Minato smiling in a knowing way. She didn’t understand why but he was mocking her. Face flaming, Ayame squirmed until Kakashi let her down and dashed behind the counter. She peeked at them, puffing her cheeks in irritation when she heard them laughing at her.  

 

Despite her mightiest glares, Teuchi still invited them to sit down and eat. “On the house,” he said, grinning as Kakashi’s eyes narrowed in displeasure. Though the Hatake boy was always grateful, he had a tendency to mutter about it being “against the rules of hospitality to never pay”. Ayame didn’t understand, but she was fine with it as long as Kakashi continued to visit.

 

"Easy there Teuchi,” Minato said. ”If you put yourself out of business from treating everyone, how will you feed  _ us _ , your most loyal customers?"

 

“I don’t think I have a problem with that given how often your Kushina visits us.”  

 

“Not  _ my _ Kushina…” Minato murmured, a worn protest. Ayame stepped out, half in delight that it was now his turn to blush, and half at the mention of her favorite customer. (Kakashi did not count, as he never had to pay.) “But even then, you keep giving her discounts…”

 

Ayame turned to Rin, the solution already in mind.

 

"You pay," she demanded, one little hand extended, palm up. Teuchi groaned.

 

“Ayame-chan...even if they did need to pay...which they don’t...it’ll be at the end of the meal.” 

 

She ignored her father. “Pay,” she said. “Papa works hard. He has lotsa friends but I don’t know you.” Minato and Obito...they help Kakashi, so Ayame could forgive them for their rudeness. But not only was Rin a hated rival who clings to Kakashi, she was one that rarely stopped by to visit. 

 

Belatedly, she realized that the frown on her father’s face was real, the lines in his face deepened by disappointment. “Ayame, you will apologize and then go to your room. That is not how you treat people, customers or friends.” 

 

Ayame flinched as if he had slapped her. Her father was a good-natured man. She could barely recall two instances when he had been angry, and never at her. 

 

And in front of so many witnesses.  

 

She choked out an apology that was more of a sob and then fled to her room. 

 

* * *

 

Later that night, driven by her grumbling stomach, Ayame finally ventured out of the small bedroom she shared with her father. He should be home. She eyed the clock. No, he should have been home a long time ago. 

 

She sniffed, forcing back another sob at a terrible realization...was...was he so disappointed he didn’t want her anymore? She hiccupped, but shook her head. She formed little fists in determination. Papa might not want her, but she still wanted Papa. She’ll find him and make him love her again. With childish plan in mind, Ayame marched to the door. 

 

Then the door opened and Teuchi stumbled inside. He tripped, falling on the ground onto his hands and knees. The room stank like the cooking wine he used in the ramen stall. 

 

“Papa!” She ran to him. His head jerked up like a poorly-controlled puppet’s. He blinked, managing to focus on her with great difficulty. 

 

“I’m sorry, Ayame-chan,” he slurred. “Your father is no good. Suzume must be so angry with me.”

 

“No Papa, you’re the best. I’m sorry,” Ayame patted his cheek, hating the wetness she felt on his weathered skin. Her own eyes filled with tears of frustration and helplessness. Other kids may not think much of a ramen-chef father but Ayame was always watching her father. She knew how hard he worked. “Get up. Get up!” She grabbed his arm, tugging with all her might. Her grip slipped, and she fell back on her bottom with a yelp. 

 

The door slammed opened again, revealing a dark silhouette against the moonlight behind him. Ayame shrank back with a cry.

 

Then the intruder scratched his messy hair in consternation. “Shit. Sorry, Ayame. I saw your old man stumbling around and came to check on you two.”

 

“Obi?” Ayame whispered. 

 

“Oy, it’s Obito. I’m not a belt.” Ayame’s bottom lip trembled. Obito made a noise of helpless frustration. 

 

“Shit, don’t cry. Sorry, I keep fucking cursing…” He grabbed his hair in panic, making him appear as if someone has electrocuted him. “FUCK, I keep doing it!” Despite herself, Ayame let out a small watery giggle. “Heh, that’s better.” He kneeled to throw one of Teuchi’s arms over his shoulders. He stood with a grunt, pulling her father up so he slumped against Obito’s smaller frame. “Bedroom’s thatta way right?” He gestured to the only way possible in their tiny apartment. 

 

“Is Papa going to be okay?” Ayame whispered as she followed him to the bedroom. She did her best to swallow the wobbliness of her voice. 

 

“He’ll be okay the morning,” Obito said with a bright grin. “Nothing a little water and some pain meds can’t fix.” 

 

“Promise?” 

 

Obito held her gaze with determined eyes. It was strange to see such a warm expression on a face made for cold sneers. “Of course. I’m the number one ninja, and the best of care for people who need my help!” He gave her a thumbs up. 

 

Ayame mustered a smile. “Thank you.” 

 

“Heh, what are friends for?” He fixed his goggles and gave her a cheesy grin. 

 

Ayame was overwhelmed with such a warm rush of love and gratitude that it seemed to fill every part of her tiny body. She smiled shyly. “Ramen on the house next time.” 

 

“Sweet! Thanks!” Obito said. Then he frowned, face pinched in thought. “Say, how do you and Old Man Ichiraku still have this business? All you seem to do is give it out for free.” 

 

* * *

 

“Kashi!” she yelled when she glimpsed Team Minato turn the corner. This time, she remembered to heed her father’s warning and stepped off her stool carefully. She waited until the group had settled into seats before hugging Kakashi’s leg in greeting, which earned her a tired pat on the head. Then Ayame turned to the rest of the team and bowed politely. 

 

“Welcome to Ichiraku’s, Rin-san, Minato-san, and Obi-san!”

 

Obito scowled. “Oy, that’s not my name!” He leaned over and prodded Ayame’s forehead. 

 

“Oh yeah! Sorry…” Ayame ducked under his hand, backing up a few steps and taking a deep breath. She lowered her stance, feet shoulder-width apart, fists ready at her side. “I mean...WELCOME TO ICHIRAKU’S, OBI-SAMA, NUMBER ONE NINJA AND FUTURE BESTEST HOKAGE!” A few birds in the nearby trees started and abandoned their perches. 

 

“Much better!” Obito gave her a double thumbs up and a cheesy grin. “Ayame-chan you’re the best!”

 

“Did I miss something…?” Kakashi asked, looking lost. 

 

“Sorry, looks like you’ve been replaced, Kakashi-kun,” Minato concluded with a smile that contradicted to his sympathetic words. “You’ve lost to Obito-kun.”

 

Kakashi shuddered. He slid out of his seat and kneeled in front of Ayame, dark eyes pleading. “Ayame-chan, if you have any respect left for me...don’t let that idiot infect you with his stupidity -” 

 

“Oy!” Obito protested. Kakashi ignored him. 

 

“You’re better than that, Ayame-chan,” he said. She stared Kakashi, puzzling over the conspiratorial glint in his eyes. He pitched his voice so only Ayame could hear him: “Say he’s stupid, Obito will do something funny.”  Delighted to be trusted with a secret, she immediately nodded in acquiesce. 

 

“You’re right, Kashi,” she declared loudly. “Obi’s stupid.”

 

“Traitor!” Obito clutched his heart in exaggerated pain, stumbling towards Ayame. He collapsed in front of her and extended one shaky hand towards her. “How...could...you?” Ayame giggled. 

 

Teuchi and Minato and Rin were laughing, and Kakashi almost looked like he was smiling as he further insulted Obito. Ayame didn’t quite understand what happened but Obito had a grin on his face even as he made the motions of being angry with Kakashi. 

 

* * *

 

 

Despite their best efforts to pretend that life was the same, the physical tolls of the war were soon noticeable within the village walls. Ayame and Teuchi greeted every customer with a smile, but that was difficult when more and more of their regulars became empty seats. As civilians, it was impossible for them to keep tabs on shinobi whereabouts. They didn’t dare ask if certain shinobi were gone on a long-term mission. Or simply gone for good. 

 

It many months later that Ayame saw Kakashi’s team again. Even though he looked even more worn down than before - he was so tired his forehead protector wasn’t even tied correctly, and now flopped over one eye - she ran to him and hugged him in relief. To her dismay, he’d grown even taller in the interim, and the top of her head barely cleared his bicep. She stepped back to take stock of his team. She saw Minato’s bright blond, and Rin’s poopy brown and Kakashi’s silver and...

 

“Where’s Obi?” she asked, peering behind them, wondering if the jovial ninja was hiding. Kakashi looked away. He must not recognize the name. “Obi...Obito,” she corrected herself. “Number 1 ninja?” Still no answer. She prompted him again in a smaller voice, sinking realization pulling at her stomach. “...Kashi?” 

 

Kakashi stared at her as if finally seeing her for the first time. Even the mask couldn’t hide that he looked like he wanted to cry. “Obi ...isn’t here,“ he said. Ayame blinked. Oh, then Obito must be in the hospital. 

 

“Don’t worry. Obi will get better!” she said with a brave grin, trying to mimic the bright smile Obito always wore. 

 

Kakashi disappeared. Ayame lost her balance, disoriented by the swirl of leaves around her, but Minato steadied her by her shoulders. He kneeled down so he was at eye level with her. He offered her a sad smile and rested a hand on her head. “He doesn’t hate you - he just misses his friend Obito very much. Obito has gone to a place where we can never find him again.”

 

Ayame knew that euphemism but had never understood. It was the same one Teuchi used to describe her mom. A faraway place. Left behind. Not here. It always hurt her father when he spoke of her mom, but Ayame’s mom was nothing more than a void that had always been there - a mystery, a myth. She never knew her mother. She didn’t have any smiles or hugs or lullabies or anything at all to remember her by. 

 

But she knew Uchiha Obito. She knew his laugh, his stupid jokes, his kindness. He was Kakashi’s silly teammate and her silly friend. His cheerful voice seemed to echo in her head, and it made her chest ache and her eyes sting.

 

* * *

 

Then, mere months later, Kushina brought news of Rin’s death with a grim expression on her round, usually cheerful face. That night, Teuchi explained to Ayame that it might be a very, very long time before they would see Kakashi again. Because some wounds could only reopen so many times before a person needed to retreat to heal, to hibernate. 

 

For as long as Teuchi and Ayame knew Kakashi, they had been able to ascertain his well-being through snippets of his accomplishments through the grapevine. But then even those snippets became scarce and precious. And if Teuchi guessed the dark place Kakashi would stray to without a team and too much pent up anger at the world, he didn’t share it with Ayame. 

 

* * *

 

  
  


“Papa, I want to go home,” Ayame whispered. 

 

It was a beautiful autumn day, cool and crisp. From her perch on Teuchi’s shoulders, Ayame had a clear view of Minato in Hokage robes as he gave his inauguration speech. The wide streets were packed with people, civilians and soldiers alike. High above their heads, strings of lanterns swayed from a breeze that hinted at the coming winter. The hard blue sky was cloudless, leaving those who gazed upon it feeling small and dizzy before the fathomless expanse. 

 

Despite Konoha’s recent triumphs, the induction of the Fourth Hokage was a somber affair. While the people of Konoha cheered and clapped at the right moments, the motions were perfunctory at best, more of a tired sigh of relief after being at war for far too long.  

 

“Let’s finish listening to Minato-san’s speech and then we can go,” Teuchi offered. “He’s worked very hard on it.”

 

“Okay, papa.” 

 

True to his word, as soon as Minato finished his speech, Teuchi turned to leave. It was slow going at best, however, as many lingered to cheer on Minato or catch up with old friends. Most simply wanted to bask in a reason to celebrate.

 

“Teuchi-san, good afternoon.” Teuchi flinched in surprise, but then he smiled pleasantly at a stern-looking man with a woman holding a young boy around Ayame’s age. The stranger frowned at them. “I see you haven’t bothered to keep your skills sharp.”

 

“Ah, Uchiha-sama, it’s good to see you are doing well,” Teuchi said.

 

The strange man narrowed his eyes, the lines on his face more prominent with his displeasure. “As I’ve requested many times, there is no need for formalities,” he said in a clipped voice. “You might deign to remember that we were teammates once. ‘Fugaku’ will suffice. ” 

 

Ayame scrunched up her face. She hated it when people talked like that to her papa like they already were disappointed in him even though they hadn’t even tried his cooking.  

 

“Ouch! Ayame-chan, you’re making me more bald than I already am,” Teuchi said with a wince. He gently pried open her fingers from his hair and set her down on the ground.

 

“Sorry,” she muttered. 

 

“Quite alright.” He turned her and pushed her forward gently towards Fugaku. “This is my daughter, Ayame. And this is Fugaku-sama, the Uchiha clan head.” She didn’t miss the hint in his voice -  _ please be polite. _

 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Ayame said, with a neat bow. While they were only a ramen bar, they still took pride in their hospitality. She’d practiced hard to make sure she could greet customers appropriately, even if she didn’t like them. 

 

“Likewise, young lady.” A hint of a smile lifted one side of Fugaku’s lips. Ayame thought he looked lopsided and ugly, like a grumpy frog. A smile wasn’t going to win her over after how rude he’d been to her papa. 

 

Her duty done, Ayame retreated and buried her face into her father’s thigh, hiding her pout as they went through another round of stilted introductions with Mikoto, his wife, and Itachi, his son. She peeked out, however, to watch the beautiful mommy as she smoothed back the stray hairs from her son’s face. An instinctual ache twisted in her stomach, the same ache whenever she saw other children with their mommies. It was not unlike missing Obito or Kakashi, but how could she even miss what she never knew?

 

Noticing her wistful gaze, Mikoto set Itachi on the ground and nudged him forward. “Why don’t you two chat while we catch up on boring adult topics?” she suggested. 

 

Itachi gave a solemn little nod and approached Ayame, who was still half hidden behind Teuchi’s leg. They stared at each other for a moment. Even though they were both allegedly four years old, he held himself like a tiny version of his father. And looked just as stuck up. He even looked old - he already had two wrinkles on his face on either side of his nose.

 

“They’re not wrinkles,” he said. Ayame stared at the ground in panic. Either Uchiha could read minds or she’d said that last part out loud. 

 

“Yeah, then what are they?” she challenged. “Crybaby lines?” Ayame didn’t have the emotional maturity to attribute her dislike to jealousy, but she wasn’t above acting on it. Thankfully, the adults had their own boring conversation about some non-Uchiha Sharingan user and Teuchi didn’t hear her less-than-polite comments. 

 

“It’s just my face.” Itachi sounded tired and a little resigned. “And I’m not a crybaby.” 

 

Ayame felt even more like a child when her attempts to pick a fight were met such a mature response. She puffed her cheeks, hating how mean and small she felt. 

 

“Didn’t say you were!” she snapped. He stared at her, tilting his head in consternation.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I didn’t mean to assume.”

 

The confusion and jealousy and echoes of grief stirred from talking to a child who behaved like an adult were too much for her. Ayame burst into tears. 

 

The only silver lining to the whole debacle was that the embarrassed parents quickly made their farewells and ushered their respective children away. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Kakashi’s sad shitty past is shitty and sad. D:
> 
> -This was supposed to be a light hearted series….

**Author's Note:**

> \--In canon, math suggests that Sakumo died when Kakashi five-ish, which is also when Kakashi was first shown wearing that mask. With the addition of better friends in this AU, Sakumo was able to deal with his depression a little better and stick around a little longer.
> 
> -Ayame’s name means ‘Iris’ the flower or ‘pattern’, but I’m also using a pun on sight, in reference to the iris of the eye. Because coughSharinganKakashicough. Funnily enough, her name can also mean ‘to murder’ or ‘to wound’. Hmmmmm.
> 
> -I’ve always found it amusing that Kakashi is often described as lupine and has nin dogs. Yet he’s called the Copy Cat.


End file.
